Oh the Places You'll Go
by polka-dotted-pengiuns
Summary: You kneel down, not caring a bit if you got your ancient jeans or patched coat wet, taking care only to keep the colorful scarf your mom made you out of the snow that was beginning to gather. You could buy a new pair of jeans, you couldn't buy a new scarf


Title: Oh the Places You'll Go

Prompt: Direction (35/50)

Rating: PG for mild swearing

Warnings: Mild Christian themes at the end. But that shouldn't bother you, seeing how the entire book series this is based off of is one big biblical allusion.

A/N: ATTENTION!!! As you may have noticed, the section's been getting a bit crowded lately, so I will be posting the rest of the fanfic50 fics on my livejournal, which is linked as my homepage on my author page. I figured with more people posting than usual, we don't need me posting fifty fics here. You don't need an account to view the journal, you just have to click hompage and leave a comment! I've got some hilarious ideas planned for these prompts. Particularly 'bath'. Thank you!

I sit, or rather lean I guess, against a tree across the street from you, but strangely, I've never felt so close.

Sure, we've got a hundred yards between us, but the wind carries the tune of your whistle down here easily in the empty chill. You've got that easy going bounce in your step.

You always have.

We keep walking down the familiar lane, but I change direction though, as you cross the street. I'm curious as to where you're going on a night like this, cold and dark, there's no need for you to notice me quite yet.

You turn the corner, and with a sad smile I have easily figured out where you are headed. It's hard sometimes to tell where you're going, your direction changing at a mere whim at times. Right now you're going where you feel you're needed most.

You usually do. It's your nature.

You've now opened the gate to the cemetery near the church you attend every Sunday with your largely extended family, Wednesdays too, as to help out with the youth group. But you're there for a reason other than worship tonight. You stop whistling through respect for the dead.

We reach a familiar tombstone and I continue to stand quite a distance back as to let you have your time. You let me have mine after all.

Even if you didn't want to.

You kneel down, not caring a bit if you got your ancient jeans or patched coat wet, taking care only to keep the colorful scarf you mamma made you out of the snow that was beginning to gather. You could buy a new pairs of jeans once you got your check, you couldn't buy a new scarf.

You smile at the flowers lying next to the stone, blowing in the breeze.

"I see mamma's already been here."

You take your own out of the pocket you kept them in for safe keeping and placed them next to the others. Then you open your mouth to speak, something you never seem to stop doing, but only a sigh makes its way out.

And you sit there in the falling snow, kneeling before his grave, completely at a loss for words, trying to think of something to say but not wanting to have to say anything at all, just wanting to be able to go home, pull the newspaper from his hands and laugh as he orders you to give it back right now and to tell him about your day.

You manage to look up once you've finished muttering to yourself in that rich Spanish, spun with the flavor of an obvious New York accent, making a dark tone all your own. Another sigh before you begin.

"Hola, Popi. It's your birthday and I thought I'd visit, keeping tradition alive and all that. Trying to escape one of Mamma's sermons."

The perpetual grin on your face is pained and the constant shine, the glow not even a star can boast, that fills your eyes through thick and thin has dimmed just a little.

I hope I never see it go out.

"Roshaun's out of school, he got a job at the library in the children's section. He tries to deny it, but he knows he likes being admired by a bunch of six year olds everyday asking him if he really _is_ a king. I bet he never thought his life would end up like that."

I bet he didn't either, his direction had changed. He was on a one way street to life's dump, but with some fancy off road stunts and a blown out star he's managed to end up in a castle. One inhabited by a red-haired woman and later, three unusually tall children.

I don't think he's too disappointed about it either.

You laugh slightly. "Apple and Microsoft are at war over Dairine. She says she's already decided on helping Apple with the wizPods, but she's waiting to see how high they'll go salary wise. She's already guaranteed a nice chunk of change either way. Roshaun just wants her to 'pick one, damnit'. I think he gets tired of the phone calls."

She's also changed her direction. Instead of continuing on the road of cold knowledge and lonely power, she's opted for the much nicer, Johnson County-esque terrain of the caring and intelligent woman that was always buried beneath the overpass of jealousy and ambition. She's now hit the world of being a wife and a mother of three, sharing her life. Enjoying every minute of it.

You lift a shaky hand to move your always too long bangs away from your eyes. Whether you're shivering from cold, or from despair, I wish I could tell.

Your slight smile is still present even as you're on the verge of tears.

… I sometimes wonder if your mother wasn't kidding when she said you grinned at the doctor who delivered you.

"Nita's gotten her degree. She was so happy when she finally graduated it made all of those late night 'I can't do it' meltdowns worth it. Though I really think she was capable of realizing for herself that chocolate ice cream was all she needed. I think she rather enjoyed making me suffer along with her."

A tear dripped slowly down your dark cheek, stopping momentarily at your chin, then falling leisurely to the frozen ground where it mixed with the snow as you smiled, keeping your popi in you life.

And I'm not going to lie, that ice cream was much better when brought by you.

"I asked her out, you know? I remembered you telling me not to let anything slip away." You accent became thicker, richer, the more distressed you became. "I almost did. But I kept hearing you voice telling me 'Don't be a fool, hijo. Don't be a pansy, tell her how you feel."

The tears were flowing steadily now, you didn't bother to wipe them away. You never did. You let them fall as they would, letting them keep their own direction. Far be it for you to interrupt their path to their destination.

We all branched out, ending up miles and miles from where we always thought we would end be, maybe even halfway across the galaxy from the initial plan we set out with, but you never did. We changed direction, deciding that maybe instead of going LA as we always dreamed, all we really wanted was some good KC street jazz to bring cure to the soul. But you never did.

We're doing things we never thought we'd be doing in a million years, because it wasn't in the plan, for better or for worse, whether we like it, or regret from the moment we set foot out of the taxi we rented. We feel as if we can do nothing about it because that's the way we decided to go, we made a choice and now it's stuck. We're trapped. But you aren't.

We ended up that way because we had a destination in mind.

_That_ was our weakness.

You never had a marked route in the road trip of life. Yes, you knew what roads you wanted no part of, and what ones you'd be damned if you missed, but you were always open. Open to anything and everything, never missing a beat, taking in all you could and then some in stride, wondering what more this place had to offer. What more you could possibly see. Hear. Feel.

Detours never inconvenienced you like they did others, in fact, they made your day. You just took the new way with a smile and anticipation, wondering what it would bring, where you'd end up next, what you'd see, if you'd like it. You'd take the new but keep the car you began in close, never compromised in the road of discoveries.

You helped us as we decided just what we needed to do to get on the right exit to enter the new highway. You kept your own dreams in mind and accepted the bad and the good with a broad grin on your face, just happy to Be. Always testing the water to see just how much you could get out of it, what more it could have to offer. Always challenging, looking for the new in the old and the familiar in it all.

Hell, you played chicken with _life_.

We couldn't do that. You led us through the dark of the tunnels into the open fields of our next adventure as you decided to see where life would lead you, what would happen next, and if you really wanted to go there, if you could go all the way out _there_.

You took the roadtrip of life with a map of your own. And that was something I can respect.

A small sob broke you breath for a moment, but you didn't stifle it.

You never did.

You let it go it's course, not ever wanting to limit your experiences in the big broad world, never wanting to limit your ability to feel. Wanting to feel. Feel the world to its fullest.

You helped _me_ with that after Mom.

"I graduated too. Valedictorian. I wish you'd have seen it. I thought Mamma was going to explode right there. 'Mela had to hold her down while she tried to jump up and scream 'My baby! My baby!' in the middle of the ceremony." You laughed slightly, watching the light reflecting in a tear as it fell in the dark. "But it's not like that managed to stop her.

You shook of the snow coating your dark hair that had finally regained it's normal color after you lost that bet. They fell from your face too, sticking to the wet from the tears you'd let rain on the earth.

"Nita was there." You said softly, as if you were sharing a deep secret with the spirit of your father. "I had no idea she'd drive out that far, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm really glad she did. I've only been with her two months and I think I love her." A chuckle. "I think I always have."

My breath caught in my throat.

_Love_?

"I guess it's a good thing I never wanted to council relationships for a living, I'd have no idea what the hell I was doing. Though teaching seems like it'd be just as hard. We'll see how it goes."

It's fitting, you being a teacher, I realize from behind my little tree. We've learned so much from you just being your happy go lucky spontaneous self, just think what you could do if you _tried_ to spread knowledge. Think what the world could be.

I reached up to wipe my own tear, but decide to be your first student and take a lesson, and let it fall. Let myself feel the full impact of the moment.

_Love?_

"I'll see you later, Popi." You smile, sniffing as you had to say yet another good bye to him. "I love you."

I decide now would be a good time to make an entrance and step out. You jump, but smile at me all the same.

"Come here."

I do as you say, wondering what you want, but you're already kneeling and indicating for me to do the same. I think about protecting my jeans, but stop. They're material, could be gone in a whim. This moment would last, far be it from me to ruin it.

"Do you want to start?" You ask. Before I can ask what, you've already made the sign of the cross.

I grin, understanding.

"Together." I decide.

"Together?"

"Together."

I make the sign as well, the way your mamma taught me, and we begin the prayer.

The universe stops to lean in and listen as the silence enfolds us, pressing in. We match tempo, our voices rising and swirling , building until it's all we can hear, all we can think. The sound is melodious, almost like song in it's simple purity.

A boy and his girlfriend saying a prayer for his dead father.

Our bodies filled with ice from the cold, and fire from the words, we finish, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and there is silence again as we stand breathless in the graveyard.

I turn to ask you what you want to do tonight, but you're not looking at me. You've got your face turned skyward, allowing the snow to coat your face as you try to catch a flake on your outstretched tongue, arms spread wide. A grin on your face and a blinding glow in your eyes.

_I love you too, Kit. _I can't help but think watching you spin around in the moonlit night.

You stop dead. Arms flopped to your sides, and your head even with mine, those shining eyes are pointed straight at me and a grin stretched wider across your face than I thought humanly possible. Slightly disbelieving.

"_Really_?"

I have to say, kissing in a graveyard isn't the most romantic of all places, but that's exactly what happened.

Five seconds later and I can't even manage a coherent thought.

And I have to say, out of the many different directions the universe has to offer, the good the bad and the ugly, the one going straight into your arms has to be my favorite of all Time.

End.

A/N: I really need to stop listening to The Fray when I'm in a writing mood. It always results in a drama. I hope you liked it and that it wasn't cliché. Out of all the dramas I've attempted I have to say this seems the least forced.


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